“What we have here is a deck of blank cards,” he said fanning them out for the boys and the mirrors. “Are we agreed?”
When he got two nods, Jack restacked the cards, placing them face-down on the table and fanning them out again. He put distance between the table and himself, making it clear he wasn’t touching them.
“I’d like each of you to slide one card out of the deck with your left hand—not looking at it, as before.” They both did. “Do the same with your right.”
They did.
“Now,” Jack added, with an arched brow for melodrama. “Do you want to switch cards? If so, now is the time.”
The magician slid the card under his right hand back into the fan of cards and drew out another.
“Excellent choice,” Jack said, as if he’d been planning on the move. “Are you both happy with your selections? You can trade back if you want to.”
“I’m good,” Prince Abed said.
“Me, too,” replied the fellow magician.
“Perfect,” Jack said, gathering the deck, flipping it again, and fanning it out, blank-side up. “What we have left is a deck of blank cards. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
“And the only cards that are face-down are the four you two chose of your own free will. I didn’t influence you in any way.”
The teen saw the trap coming but had to nod the truth. Abed looked more curious than wary as he did the same.
“Now, what if I told you that I knew exactly which cards you were going to choose?”
The magician’s eyes narrowed in challenge. “Can you tell us now, or do we need to flip the cards first?”
“Ah,” Jack mused. “I didn’t see you do this part, but I’ll give you a hint. I am a Jack and you two are princes, so I thought it would be rather poetic if you chose the four jacks. Why don’t you flip the cards to see if I was right?”
The teen flipped his cards first. Jack of hearts and jack of clubs.
Abed blinked in surprised before flipping the two cards he’d chosen as well. Jack of diamonds, jack of spades.
Looking less like a king for the day and more like a kid at a party, Abed beamed up at Jack for a moment before correcting himself. Several oohs sounded out around the room and Jack even heard a few claps.
That was nice, and technically the challenge was answered, but what was the fun in stopping at the bare minimum?
Jack turned to the challenger. “Now, just to make sure that all this is on the up-and-up, I’d like you to pick up three jacks of your choice—leaving one on the table for His Grace—and inspect them. Make sure they’re real cards.”
The boy picked up all the jacks but the jack of diamonds. He checked the texture with his hands and looked them over. “They’re real cards. Not fake.”
“Very good,” Jack said, again pulling focus. “Now that we’re sure of that, I want you to take the three cards you’ve chosen and press them to your chest.” He positioned the teen’s hands himself, pressing them into place so that the cards were trapped between the guy’s chest and hands. “Hold them there, nice and tight.”
The teen was watching him like a hawk, waiting to catch him making a move. Jack answered his vigilance with a smile and a question.
“Now, tell me. What cards are you holding?”
The challenger looked at him like it was a trick question. “The jacks of clubs, hearts, and spades.”
Jack arched a skeptical brow. “Are you sure?”
The boy glanced at Abed’s diamond, clearly watching for a curveball. “Pretty sure.”
Jack gestured to the table. “Then prove it. Show us your cards.”
When the teen placed his cards down, all three of the jacks now had diamond suits. Four jacks of diamonds lay on the table. All other suits were gone.
That got a few more claps, which Jack ignored.
“Hmm,” he said, pretending to be perplexed. “Four jacks of diamonds. Is that what you keep up your sleeve?”
When several onlookers chuckled, the boy’s chin came up. “I keep no cards up my sleeve.”
Jack narrowed his eyes skeptically. “Are you sure? You’re saying that when I change those cards back to what they’re supposed to be, I’m not going to find three jacks of diamonds up your sleeve?”
“You will not,” the teen said, pushing his cuffs away from his wrist.
“If you say so,” Jack said, before waving his hand over the three jacks with flair.
By the time his hand passed over them, all the diamonds were gone and the clubs, hearts, and spades had returned. The clapping was louder this time, but Jack still had a few moves left before he could pay attention to the audience. The teen was watching him like a hawk, trying to catch the sleight of hand and coming up empty.
Jack had to admit that it was fun fooling a fellow practitioner of considerable skill. But he wouldn’t celebrate until he was finished.
“See, I knew the two of you would choose the jacks, which is why they were the only cards I left in the deck,” Jack said, before gesturing to the teen’s sleeve. “Just like I knew you would swap these cards out for the diamonds up your sleeve.”
The teen shook his head. “No. I don’t have any cards up my sleeve.”
Jack tilted his head skeptically. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
For the first time, Jack acknowledged the onlookers with a sweeping gesture of his hand. “Mind proving that to our audience by shaking your sleeves out for us?”
Knowing he was walking into a trap, but not knowing how, the teen did as instructed, pulling his sleeves open and shaking them over the table.
Three jacks fell out, landing on the table. Three jacks of diamonds.
“See?” Jack said, wagging his finger at him. “I knew you were tricky. I don’t know how you swapped them out, but I’m impressed.”
Prince Abed was grinning from ear-to-ear, clearly having a blast with the show Jack was putting on. That was good, but it was almost time for the finale.
“You can put all those diamonds back up your sleeve now,” Jack said, before gesturing to the blank fanned-out cards. “As for the rest of the cards, it’s time to put this deck back together, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes!” Prince Abed said, all but clapping his hands with eagerness for whatever came next.
Jack gestured to the jacks, along with the three and the nine Prince Abed had originally chosen. “I want you boys to push the cards you’ve chosen back into the deck—facing up, like all the others. Anywhere you want. Scatter them out. Don’t put any two together. Really mix them into the deck.”
Prince Abed didn’t hesitate, pushing the cards on his side in eagerly before focusing as close as he could on the cards, ready to spot anything. The challenger picked his placements with more focus and intent. He wanted to catch whatever Jack did next. Unfortunately, Jack had no intention of letting him.
When the four jacks, the three of diamonds, and the nine of spades were spread out into the row of blank cards for all to see, Jack gathered the deck back into a stack and shuffled in clear view.
“To recap, I didn’t touch any of the cards you put back in the deck.”
“Right,” Prince Abed said, still grinning.
Jack shuffled again. “There’s no way I could know where your cards are in the deck—especially now that I’m shuffling.”
The teen nodded this time. “Yes.”
Jack could feel the attention on his hands, but the challenger wasn’t the only one who had trained in the art of being quiet with movement.
Jack could also be still.
“So…” He eyed the challenger with a look of intrigue. “What if I told you that you have your blank deck of cards back again—that all the cards you chose are white again?”
He could see the wheels turning in the teens head—trying to figure out what was being done, and how. Trying to see what was coming next. “I … would say that is a neat trick.”
“Yeah?” Jack said.
The kid nodded. “Yeah.”
Jack handed in him the cards. “Then why don’t you do it?”
“Me?” he said, taking them.
“Sure. Fan these out—face-up—for everyone to see.”
The teen looked like he wanted to protest, but there was only one thing to do: fan the cards out, face-up. And he did.
All the cards were blank.
Prince Abed clapped, beaming up at Jack like he was the coolest person he’d ever met at that moment.
It felt good.
The realization was joined by the sound of clapping all around him, including a few whoops from the audience. When Jack looked out to acknowledge them, he found nearly everyone in the room looking back. And they were all clapping.
Even Arthur, although his expression was unreadable.
Jack tipped his head in thanks as the teen gathered up the deck of blank cards and reached out to shake his hand.
“That was amazing,” he said, dipping his chin respectfully to Jack. “It was an honor being bested by you.”
Jack reached out and shook his hand. “It was an honor to be challenged by someone so worthy.”
The teen smiled, his unflappable demeanor falling for a moment as he accepted the compliment.
The audience was still clapping as Jack and Prince Abed climbed the six steps back to their seats. That’s when Jack realized that maybe he wasn’t benched after all.
Maybe the best place for him to champion his cause was center stage, putting on a show to remember for everyone who could change Claire’s fate.
A smile crept onto Jack’s lips as he took his seat and looked over the spectators with new eyes.
Tonight, he was going to give the Royals a show to remember.
Chapter 19
Claire
The room Malachi moved them to could have hosted a football game. The four massive conference tables lined up in parallel on the far wall wouldn’t even have to be moved to make room.
Vaulted, stone walls became a stark reminder to Claire that they were still inside a mountain peak, and the architect seemed to want to make the most of the space.
Feeling small seemed to be an ongoing theme. She felt like an ant in a jar—a stone jar—with clocks the size of trampolines displaying the time in every time zone and none indicating what the local time might be. But back in Vegas, the time was 8:11 pm.
8:11.
How was that possible? It hadn’t even been three hours since she broke into the office wearing Nadia’s face.
Now she was wearing a ball gown in a private part of a palace, accompanied by Margot, Ren, and her new inscrutable friend, Malachi.
A Second Son.
A Royal.
A guy who rubbed his thumb against his ring whenever he weighed a decision against the woman walking to Claire’s left. A man who lived a lonely life with a defined endgame he shared with no one.
That was pretty much all Claire knew about Malachi beyond the generic. Well, that, and Malachi didn’t want to see Claire fired yet, for some unknown reason. He was lobbying for her, even against his father’s wishes … King Arthur’s wishes.
Claire wasn’t quite sure why the man’s name was so important to her perception of the situation.
Jack’s boss was King Arthur, and King Arthur hated her.
For some reason that made her feel so deflated, like a wilted month-old balloon hanging out in the unseen part of a home that no one had tossed in the trash yet.
It was illogical that one human should have such strong impact on her psyche so quickly, but Claire had spent a lifetime learning over and over again that the mind wasn’t necessarily logical. It just liked to wear logical masks now and again to play along with compelling narratives.
For example, Claire preferred Malachi’s narrative to his father’s, which was why she was about to do whatever he said in an effort to avoid getting fired.
It wasn’t a logical choice; it was the choice she wanted. So here they all were.
“Let’s take a seat at the lapis table,” Malachi said, gesturing to the table on the far right. “If you join us, Claire, that will be your table. Your banner.”
Pulled from her thoughts, Claire gave the tables a closer look. They were still a good fifty feet away, but she could see each had its own distinct color. Brown on the far left, then black, followed by a much lighter brown, then royal blue on the far right.
Malachi said lapis. As in, lapis lazuli? The stone? Was there that much lapis lazuli in the world—not to mention a slab large enough to make a table fifty people could sit at?
Apparently.
The sound of their shoes echoed through the large hall—everyone’s but Ren’s, Claire noticed. His steps were silent. Everything about him was silent. The only way to know he was in the room at all was to look three paces behind Margot.
She wondered which table was Ren’s, and her eyes were drawn to the black one. The man was like a shadow you didn’t want to deal with, so she was definitely picking the black one for him.
Again, narrative over logic. She wasn’t sure why that was popping up to her all of a sudden, but she didn’t fight it. All awareness was good awareness.
“I gave you a tip at the beginning of the night, Claire,” Malachi said. “Do you remember it?”
Claire thought back over the past three hours, her mind cluttered with the counting of wine glasses, her first glance at Jack, and, of course, the infamous bear before she recalled what she hoped to be the correct answer.
“You said to ask questions if I didn’t understand something.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
In the corner of her eye, Claire saw Margot send Malachi a look the equivalent of an eye roll.
“That’s his way of telling you that there’s going to be a lot of silence in this room unless you start asking questions,” Margot said, keeping her eyes on their destination. “But I’ll remind everyone that the prince told us to tell Claire the title and job responsibilities she is being considered for, so she doesn’t need to ask that or for coaching from you.”
Malachi nodded his agreement before moving forward and pulling out the chair at the head of the table for Claire. “Let’s put you in the middle. We’ll sit on the sides.”
Claire looked from the chair to her overly full skirt and had a moment of hesitation.
“Um—”
“The inner framework of the skirt collapses,” Malachi offered, indicating the bow on the back. “May I?”
Margot’s eyes narrowed at the suggestion, but Claire didn’t hesitate to turn and let him do whatever magic he did to make her skirt deflate. Over a yard of fabric would drag on the ground if she tried to walk now, but she could sit with relative ease.
Meanwhile, Ren pulled up a seat without arms on it for Margot and she settled into as best she could in her voluminous gown.
“Now,” Malachi said, jumping right into it. “It may not come as surprise to you that our shared banner is known for its brains. It is our job to be sharp and incisive, which is why our symbol is the blade.”
“Okay,” she said, tabling the questions popping up in her head to let him keep talking.
“The Royals you see tonight play a specific role in the world, but there are many non-Royals we work with—like Jack—who are specialists at different jobs. All these jobs have names, many of them pulled from myths or tales from the past. Some of them may sound fancy, or even occult, but they are really just titles identifying skill sets. Does that makes sense?”
Claire nodded. “So far, yes.”
“Very good,” Malachi said. “When I tell you Jack requested you for his oracle, I want you to think of an oracle as being a big-picture analyst—a spotter for people like Jack and Ren. You’re the judge who has her eye on everything in the big picture, and communicates with the players on the field anytime something changes.”
That was definitely her skill set. Claire took a breath, feeling a little more confident as s
he glanced back at Margot, who looked like she might be fighting some drowsiness from the wine. “Yeah, that’s what Margot has been teaching me.”
“Yes,” Malachi agreed. “All the experience you’ve gathered over the past year will be invaluable to you tonight. But you’ve been trying to learn from someone who does things the exact opposite way that you’re wired to do them while taking a medication that stunts some of your potential. That is all well and good for functioning in the main world, but something that will require adjusting if you join ours.”
Switching medications was never fun, but Claire was up for it. As for his mention of Margot doing things differently than Claire—that was an outright relief. Everything about Margot was a mystery to Claire, especially how her brain worked.
“The good news is,” Malachi continued. “We don’t really need to teach you new skills tonight. We just need you to think differently.”
For some reason that did not sound easier. But, again, Claire bit her tongue. Especially since Margot and Ren hadn’t felt the need to interrupt yet.
“Typically, we teach through games and test through puzzles,” he continued. “We don’t have time for that tonight, but we do know how the prince will test you.”
“We do?” Claire asked. How had she missed that detail? She thought prince had been impressively vague on that front.
“It’s the job of an oracle to see things coming before others do. They pick up on established patterns and their possible variations to predict outcomes before they manifest.”
Claire felt a smile tug on her lips as he spoke. He was talking about things she literally did compulsively. Everything he was talking about was something she’d been obsessing over since she was old enough to obsess.
For the first time since meeting Arthur, Claire started to feel confident again.
“Any questions so far?” Malachi asked, watching her reaction.
Questions? Yes. Hundreds. Literally. But she started with the one that would help her make a nice compartment in her brain.
“So banners and titles don’t follow bloodlines, but skills? That’s why you and your father belong to different banners?”
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